


Her Child

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Evil Voldemort (Harry Potter), Harry Potter Has a Pet Snake, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kidnapping, Mentor Severus Snape, Morally Grey Harry Potter, Plot, Severus Snape is Bad at Feelings, Slytherin Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:55:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24233929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The door cracked open behind Harry."Come, Mr Potter, it would appear that we have outstayed our welcome tonight."Harry thought that Severus looked a lot better, he had stopped his shaking and his eyes were focused right again. He ignored the drops of crimson, slowly seeping through the strange robe's sleeve, falling to the stone below, wondering if maybe Vernon though Severus was a Freak too.Now- Harry vaguely noted- the lady on Number 8 was moving. Running, in fact, towards him."Yes, sir." Harry whispered, eyes wide and so bright in the shallow moonlight.He didn't think that Severus heard it over the wail of nearing sirens, but he took Harry's hand none the less.~~~Severus was not made to be a father, he did not want to be made a father. And yet, somehow, he ended up with something of a child. A strange child that soaks up his knowledge like a sponge, a strange child with an uncanny ability to read him, a strange child that acts as a beacon for all those who wish to kill him. ~~~
Relationships: Harry Potter & Severus Snape, Lucius Malfoy & Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall & Severus Snape
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	1. Prologue

Harry's bedroom was a safe space.

It had a low stooping roof, one that bowed down to meet the floor at one end and stood high at the other. It meant that as he lay back in his cot, when dusk fell, he had only to raise his arms a few centimetres to brush fingertips against the peeling paint, about the same distance he had on either side. But that was okay with him: he rather liked the comforting chrysalism the cramped space provided with him; when shuffled back as far as the corner would allow, he was just more than an arm's length away from the door. Out of grasp.

After so many years, even it's downfalls seemed comforting to the young boy. Hanging from the roof fell spider's webs, intricate twists of silk that glittered in the shallow light spilling through the grate in the door. Some days, when the spiking shoot of agony deep down in his belly became too much to bare and he lay awake, he would watch the strange beasts with their spindly legs, glittering sheen and elegant ease. They would become villains and martyrs, dames and damsels, fierce soldiers and cowering victims. But never anything freakish because even the nastiest, creeping creatures didn't deserve that.

He named one Delphine, but he never could tell them apart, so in the end he named them all Delphine.

Harry liked his small quarters with its shattered lightbulb, dusty old blanket and rotting mattress. He liked the crevices and hollows he could reveal when he tugged back the cot and pried open a floorboard with overgrown fingernails. Those were the hiding places he would slip the paper back books and mismatched action figures he had nabbed from Dudley's vast collection when cleaning.

The tall man didn't seem to like his bedroom quite as much.

He was wearing a strange sought of expression, heavy brow scrunched up and eyes widened a little. If Harry lent in slightly from his corner, despite the blurring around the edges, he could see the way the man's thin lips parted slightly at the middle and breath huffed out in sharp gasps.

Harry didn't make a sound, instead, he pressed his back more forcefully against the drywall and tucked trembling fingers up the back of his oversized t-shirt until the man shook his head slightly and turned his gaze onto him.

"Mr. Potter"

He had a deep, rumbling tone and seemed to cherish each word at the tip of the tongue. They slipped from his lips almost reluctantly, lingering, heavy in the air.

"I am Severus Snape, Potions Master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry" He continued.

Harry cocked his head slightly to one side and for a long moment that stretched out far into a minute, he considered Severus Snape.

He was not what you would call a conventionally good looking man, that much anyone could tell, but Harry was quick to gloss over the hooked nose and the sharp line of protruding bones that jutted out at his cheek, nor did the greasy locks tumbling down to his shoulder blades elicit any response from the child. Instead, he carefully studied his stance.

Severus had a towering form, even stooped down as he was to view the inside of the decrepit cupboard, he covered the way out with ease. So much so that Harry was left pondering whether he even meant to at all. All signs of a build were hidden below an odd flowing fabric, pinned up at his chest and cascading out around the waist.

"Yes, sir. Nice to meet you, Sir." It was better to fall on the safe side of instinct, don't ask questions.

Harry had learned that many a year ago, but despite his acknowledgement, the words swirled around his mind. A joke, that must have been what it was, he concluded with a reluctant logic. But a strange one at that.

Dudley had always been one for cruel taunts and he took after his father. They took great glee in playing around with the Rules. Like how Vernon always made sure that the table was dressed up for four, 3 plates stuffed to the brim and so many dishes that they were often piled up one on top of the other in order to fit on the spacious dining table. Then, Harry's, empty, taunting.

Once, he had even served Harry up a stack of roast potatoes and gravy.

He shuddered slightly at the memory. Gullible, he was back then, gullible, stupid, little freak.

After that, Harry was careful, trained, at what they would miss. By the age of 6, enough pink stained cheeks and purpling bruises to know what could be counted, would be counted. Dry fistfulls of pasta, unsliced loaves of bread, spreads and honey- dripping off fingertips and straight between salviated lips. Then to the fridge, grubby fingers peeling off a layer of butter, a swig of each juice and licking off the lids of their fine fruit yogurts. He would collect up his spoils in the front of an oversized jacket, all bunched up to form a pocket and tuck them carefully down into those dusty nooks and crannies of his cupboard bedroom. Saved for a day when the shining latch fell against rust and screams nor pleas would release him.

From that day on, the plate- empty or full- was just another decoration.

Yes, Dudley and Vernon liked their games. But not with that word. That word was deadly serious.

Witchcraft and wizardry. Freaks. Was that man a Freak too? Was he going to come join him in his bedroom? The questions swirled incessantly around, pressing down on him with so much force, he had to bite his tongue to trap them all safe inside.

Severus had a piercing gaze that seemed to linger far too long in Harry's emerald eyes.

"I am here to check up on your wellbeing." He continued with that same drawling tone, eyes flickering around his bedroom with a scathing disgust. Harry felt the indigence swell up but kept his eyes carefully trained somewhere around Severus' shoulder. "It would appear that Minerva is not the gullible fool I once presumed, the women has yet to lose clarity."

He paused again and seemed to search for Harry's eyes, dipping his head down to stare unabashed up into them. If possible, Harry pressed his back tighter against the wall in response.

They waited for a long minute, man studying boy with an impassive brow and swirling eyes. Studying, Harry knew that look. Searching, Harry remembered that look. Indecisive, Harry hated that look.

Teachers with their soft questions and gentle touch against his shoulders, slowly morphing to snaps and warnings when he didn't dare part lips and spill his tales. Lengthy calls about mottled skin and vivid galaxies against frail wrists, then, in the end, a purple faced man.

"Get up, Mr Potter and gather your personal belongings. You are leaving."

Harry's head shot up faster than Severus could blink, staring up at him with wide, childish eyes, garishly vast amongst the sunken hollows of his cheeks.

Harry couldn't leave. He liked his cupboard, he liked his friends, he liked the comfort and his own tiny place to call home.

He liked the safety of the nook.

A minute passed silent, threatened to fall into two.

Harry didn't push his luck, this man had longer arms than Vernon.

He crawled out from the corner reluctantly, unfurled himself carefully and stood at the very head of the cupboard, head still cast downward.

"Mr Potter." The voice levelled down to a lowly hiss, rage barely concealed. "I said to gather your belongings. I suggest you pay head to my words."

"I don't have nothing, Sir."

Another silent minute crept past.

"Nothing, child?"

"I have Delphine, she's special." He murmured, fear momentarily overridden by a defensive pride.

Harry took the opportunity to risk a glance up through his overgrown fringe, darting away once more too quickly from the man's form for him to notice the flickering emerald. The man was furious, that much Harry knew. He could see it in the slight tremble at his fingertips, the slits that now took the form of eyes, the snarl that pulled up the edge of each lip. It mattered little that expressions were schooled almost into indifference, nor that eyes stared unseeingly into the wall.

Severus shook his head once more, though Harry thought that it didn't seem to work so well that time.

"Go wait on the doorstep. I will be with you presently, we are leaving." He snapped out.

He still wasn't looking at Harry. He wasn't looking at anything. The man was simply kneeling there, trembling slightly, gazing at Delphine.

Harry pressed past him, careful not to brush himself up against the unfaltering figure: out the door, leaning heavily against the porch wall in a vain attempt to quell the rocking world.

It was then, barely standing and vaguely wondering if he was being "carted off to an orphanage where he belonged, '' as Petunia used to say, that he heard it.

A loud crack that echoed through the house, followed by an agonised growl of swear words.

The thud of heavy footfalls climbing up the stairs, steady and rhythmic.

A scream. A long, wailing, desperate, bloodcurdling scream. An echoing, deafening crash.

Then silence. Stretching silence, seconds or minutes, Harry had little clue.

People had begun to gather at their lace curtains, others came flooding from their houses: dressing gowns tied around their waists and children pressed back from the doorways.

"I've called!" Someone cried down the street and somewhere, in the distance, a siren started up.

"Is that a boy?" Someone else responded.

"Not theirs."

"Hey, kiddo, what's going on there, huh? Is your family okay, sweetheart? Do you want to come over to me now? My little Maxie is just your age and would love to play while the nice-" She glanced frantically around, "-men have a little look around?"

The plump, dark haired women shifted on her doorstep at Number 8, the same woman who had "called". The babied tone was painfully strained and she seemed reluctant to stray too far from her own garden.

Harry didn't move.

Feet racing back down the stairs, faster this time.

The door cracked open behind Harry.

"Come, Mr Potter, it would appear that we have outstayed our welcome tonight."

Harry thought that Severus looked a lot better, he had stopped his shaking and his eyes were focused right again. He ignored the drops of crimson, slowly seeping through the strange robe's sleeve, falling to the stone below, wondering if maybe Vernon though Severus was a Freak too.

Now- Harry vaguely noted- the lady on Number 8 was moving. Running, in fact, towards him.

"Yes, sir." Harry whispered, eyes wide and so bright in the shallow moonlight.

He didn't think that Severus heard it over the wail of nearing sirens, but he took Harry's hand none the less.


	2. Chapter 1

Severus Snape had royally fucked up.

He was only just beginning to get a grasp on just how badly.

Severus stumbled against the doorstep, slamming out one fist to catch himself on the door, but letting gravity pull him down after that. Sliding slightly down the wood, unaware of the splinters catching on his bare palms, so he was hunched over.

One ear pressed to the door, he could just hear the echo of her footfalls on the stairs as she came down the corridor.

Severus had fucked up enough to land himself somewhere dark, somewhere that even Albus, with his benevolent twinkle and endless marionette strings, would be able to rescue him from.

There was a single golden rule of the wizarding world, don't fuck with Harry Potter.

Minerva swore when she opened the door.

She was as little put together as he had ever seen her, long locks of greying hair hanging loose from a messy bun drawn to the nape of her neck. A robe was hastily thrown across her shoulders, but hung open slightly at the front, the intricate buttons discarded to reveal a traditional sleeping gown.

Severus tilted his head slightly, taking in the position of the sun. It was still low in the sky, only casting a faint glow across the countryside. He pressed aside the guilt, placing all his attention instead in focusing his eyes on the woman before him.

It was appallingly difficult to achieve, he discovered.

"Oh, Severus, what on bloody earth have you done to yourself?"

"I'm fine-"

"Bullshit." She laughed, but it was not one of joy, nor humour. It fell from her lips a sad sound that ended almost as soon as it had been released. Perhaps she had realised how jarring it echoed, or maybe she had little effort to keep it up.

She did not continue because they both knew she needn't. There was a strange dishevelment in the way the man held himself, so severe in its contrast to his mask. It was his white knuckled grip against the doorframe, long fingers forming claws around the chipping wood. It was the hunch of his back, weight sprawled out across his splayed digits as if his legs could not hold much more. It was the agonised twist of his features as he raised his eyes to survey the hall.

"I need your help-"

"It's not my bloody help you need- oh get in-" Minerva reached out a long arm and grasped him roughly and dragged him through the doorway, the vast hall behind it, and into a comfortable sitting room. "Merlin, Severus, I ask one thing of you. 'Check on the boy', I said, not go find the local pub to drown your sorrows. I tell you this is getting out of hand."

"What?" Severus snapped, "No- no- no. I need your help- I've fucked up-"

Minerva scoffed, slicing her wand once across herself and watching absently as the fastenings came together. Another similar movement rendered her hair back into an appropriately severe twist.

"I- I lost control - I lost it all- I was just meant to check in, I didn't mean to- the boy-" Severus spat out the words, a hand tugging roughly at his long hair as he unsteadily paced the length of her office.

He really hadn't meant to, he knew that. It had all seemed so simple when Minerva had voiced her worries. She had done a fine impression of Albus himself with her vicious jabs at his weak points.

"Oh for merlins sake, will you sit down!" The man jolted, but other than that didn't seem to take any notice of her words, continuing his strides. "SEVERUS!-"

Despite her harsh words, even as Minerva spoke she was turning, this time less rage in her expression, but instead her brow scrunching up and lips pursed as she ran her eyes rapidly down his figure.

"You're not acting yourself." She murmured quietly, almost to herself, shaking her head slightly.

She took a few short steps towards the man, a hand coming to rest on one shaking shoulders. When she continued, her accent was softened once more, "I've never seen you so out of sorts, not since… well, sit. Sit down and I will get you a good cuppa and we will sort this all out, eh?"

"I can't-" Severus took a stumbling step back, one hand raised to press against furrowed eyebrows "I don't have the time- I have to- I've got to-"

Get back to Harry Potter, the boy he had kidnapped, Severus completed, not daring to voice such dangerous words out loud. Memories were precious.

"You can and you will. You are in no state to be wandering around the streets. You'll want a sobering potion again, I assume?" Minerva asked sharply, then, shaking her head once more at his incredulous stare she eased the man back another step, pressing him firmly down onto one of her carved parlour chairs.

"Drinking?" He murmured, "Salazar, no. No, no.. my barriers… Occlumency."

"Ah." Her features immediately softened, smiling almost apologetically as she turned her back to him, "Well, I always did tell Albus it was a barbaric skill. Just as easy to become an animagus, you know, with enough skill not even the most powerful can coax me out." Minerva rambled as she moved smoothly around her kitchen, filling and setting on the kettle, collecting a tin of shortbread from the top shelf of the cupboard. "He, of course, told me that my opinion was worth nothing. In his own endearing way, you know, with a lot of 'dear girl's and 'Minerva my darling's."

Her voice carried easily through the corridors and Severus felt some of the blinding panic recede slightly at the blatant normality of the situation.

Here, hidden away in the women's front parlour, it could have been any other summer afternoon: amber drinks swirled lazing in one hand and conversation easy amongst the two of them. They would talk of the arrogance of 11 year old children who thought themself adults and toast the publications and Minerva would coax him into proper conversations with subtle hints of the intricate new potion discoveries.

If he pressed his eyes tight shut, Severus could almost hear the echo of their chatter still: Minerva chuckling at his scorning glare as she topped a travel flask with the dregs of their whiskey, smiling good naturedly as he swatted away her attempt for his own. An upcoming meeting with Albus and the Minister, if he remembered correctly, and, with it, a surplus of debilitating budget cuts.

"Right then, let's get you sorted out, shall we. I tell you, that man, allowing such books in his library. Too young. Shouldn't have learnt it at all."

He opened his eyes to a cup of scalding tea placed carefully before him, strong and black, and the vague shaking of a biscuit tin.

She rose fluidly, slashing her wand viciously across the air and mumbling a long series of incantations below her breath. She caught the summoned briefcase almost absently, but slammed it down on the side table with an echoing crash that they both knew wasn't strictly necessary.

The clasps snapped undone to reveal a careful array of vials, each carefully written in his own almost illegible scrawl.

The woman raised her head expectantly at him, prompting him slightly with a soft hum at his continued silence.

"Mild Nerve Restorative- Calming Draft- the black vial on the far left: the Dark Lord was never too careful either." He offered the answer to her unspoken question, his words still spilling from his lips far too fast and a little mumbled.

She pressed each one into his hand, watching as he knocked them back at first with a shaking hand that slowly steadied.

The change was unnerving in its contrast.

The frantic panic flowed from his features like water, replaced instead with a wrinkled brow and utter exhaustion carved into each premature wrinkle. Severus raised a bony hand and rubbed it across his eyes, before wincing as his eyes met hers.

Some of the hazy fog had lifted from his mind, narrow twisting paths that allowed him crystal clear memories once more, though his composure still faltered a little.

Severus had really fucked up.

"My apologies."

"Not at all." Minerva replied crisply, "So, whatever happened? Never, Severus, have I seen you quite like that."

Severus met her eye with a wry grimace.

"I came for an alibi."

The woman stilled mid sip.

For a long moment, she simply stared at Severus with a perfectly blank face of shock. If it had been another day, the man would have taken great glee in finally doing something worthy of drawing surprise out of her: usually such a stoic lady. That day, however, it felt more like solidation of his inevitable end 6 feet under the blackened yew trees of Azkaban.

No, he thought with a wearily humoured edge, the Dark Lord would eventually rescue him, give it a decade: for his undying dedication and mastery.

Her lips were drawn into a tight line across her face, the steam from her still cooling tea fogging up her glasses, but she made little move to clear them.

Finally, Minerva spoke.

"Well, Severus, you have really outdone yourself this time haven't you." She let out a long, withering sigh, setting down her mug on the table with a dull thud.

Severus flinched and Minerva raised an eyebrow in response.

"Simple Pain Reliever."

She passed him a swirling red vial.

"I assume the boy is safe, you kept up the barriers long enough for that?"

"Just enough." He replied, throwing that potion back too and letting his temple rest on his palms as the headache ebbed back away into absence.

Finally, his hazy mind seemed to clear a little. Coherent thought surfacing with a little clarity. "My place on Spinner's End, untraceable, even by the ministry's standards. Knocked him out for a good few hours."

She tutted.

"You know, Albus once told me you had the bedside manner of a starving vampire and, for once, I think the old bugger was onto something."

"Forgive me, Minerva, but I wasn't quite all with it." He snarled out, but not with malice.

She scowled at his emotionless features, but something niggling inside Severus saw something akin to relief shining in her eyes with it at his snarky attitude.

Suddenly, he wished he had apologised with a little more fervor. He shook away that perilous thought quickly, blaming it on the after affects still lingering.

"Don't you 'Minerva' me, Severus, and I know all too well what Occlumency can do to the mind when used irrationally." She shook her head in frustration, "What in bloody hell convinced you it was a good idea to put up blocks so severe?"

Severus sighed, reaching out for his mug, still sat untouched, and, drawing it carefully up between his hands, pressed the hot china against one cheek and let the heat seep soothingly through his skin.

"It wasn't just the blocks," He admitted, "They fell and, being it that I haven't gone without for nearly a decade, I was not coherent. I blindly pressed them back up forcefully to block memories, restricted myself to the barest level of functionality to prevent myself from… pursuing those methods… and to get the boy back to Spinner's End safe. Of course, when I let them down once more, my natural shields were all but shredded. No emotional control, like with the drunk."

He raised his head slowly, meeting hazel eyes with once more only a slight crease signifying his distress. "You were right, Minerva, about the boy."

"I gathered that much, thank you, Severus! Are you going to tell me what you did?"

Severus murmured out his response, still holding her gaze steadily. "No. That would be dangerous."

Minerva nodded with something nearly understanding before letting the frustration take over once more.

"An alibi? In peace times?! The ministry must be out for your head."

"Most certainly. You don't have to forge me an escape route." He reminded dully.

"Oh you'll get your bloody alibi, don't start with that blasted acceptance act now. 5 minutes ago you were practically hyperventilating over whatever you did, I don't care what kind of damage you do to that brain: you, Severus, don't just lose it over a little kidnapping."

There was a long lull in the conversation, where neither would meet the other's eye.

"You can't keep him with you for long" Minerva finally concluded, tone low and soft once more.

"Nor do I want to, I'll figure something out." Severus said curtly, before rising shakily once more to his feet.

Minerva leapt to her feet as he swayed, righting him with a firm grasp against his forearm.

"He needs to be hidden, Albus will set the ministry's bloodhounds on him. He'll send him back, Petunia Dursley" Severus raised a sardonic eyebrow"...or not. Well, he has a cousin there anyway"

Severus nodded sharply, tugging his arm firmly away from hers and making his way across the hall, through the still unlocked front door and down across the ward lines.

"The child will be safe, trust me."

"I do."

It was just as he was making to apparate that she called out once more, "Oh and Severus!"

He turned momentarily back to the door, raising an eyebrow in response to the women's soft, genuine expression.

"If you come again, give me half an hour to get dressed."

Blasted woman, he thought, spinning on the spot, letting the tug behind his navel pull him home, landing with a slight jolt.

He couldn't help the half smile that crept up onto his face, but he did quell it within seconds, content with the knowledge that only Minerva could have caught it and merlin only knew she had seen far worse that night.

Severus let out a long sigh once he was safely out of Minerva's property, fingers rubbing harsh circles across his temple as he stumbled back across his ward lines and his front path.

His head was flaring up once more: a blaring, agonising pain that clearly marked the beginning of a migraine. He wanted nothing more than to swallow down another pain reliever and collapse into his bed. The nights events still played on repeat at the front of his brain and he would have done anything to get rid of that hum.

He knew his potion did little but clear the mind temporarily, allowing more sober thought and the only way to properly allow the mind to form the natural boundaries everyone held once more was a long sleep.

However, there still lay, of course, the issue of Harry Potter.

The walk from his ward boundaries to his actual house was a long one of winding streets and alleyways: each reeking of the stale stench of piss, booze and musky sex. The man kept his hood up, eyes tilted to the ground, as he walked and though he was slightly slowed by the drag of each muscle- begging for respite- and the steady pounding of his skull, the homeless of his town's sector seemed to know him by face. Many a man had attempted to cross Severus before in these regions, especially as a child when his stalk was less imposing and more arrogant. They had all learnt their lesson in blood stained cinder block.

Severus did not think as he walked, he didn't attempt to, though he was sure he wouldn't have been able to even if he had. He simply let one foot fall in front of the other, winding their way across the Spinner's End.

His house was a towering building, far taller than it was wide and decrepit in its peeling paint and wild front garden.

It was with a quick glance around him that he raised an idle hand and drew it across the air, letting the door creak slowly open in front of him.

And there, curled in front of him, was Harry Potter himself.

Very much not unconscious.

He froze.

Harry was dwarfed in the parlor, if not even younger looking for it. He sat in the corner, knees drawn up to the chest and eyes once more so very emerald and wide. The boy did not flinch as the door opened, nor even glanced his way, instead, his eyes were focused off to a point to Severus' right, moving in a steady little circles as if following an object.

"What are yo-" He began, taking one step towards the child, the confusion melting quickly to anger, though even Severus wasn't sure what for, as he hadn't given many instructions, so sure that Harry would be rendered unconscious for hours to come.

"Oh don't blame the poor child, Severus, really: all my own fault" Someone else finished.

A silky smooth voice: smirking in its tone and echoing through the parlour with a natural ease.

Severus spun on his heel, wand sliding from his holster and neatly into his palm.

There, sprawled out across his couch, a man lay. His feet across the armrest and wand twirled nonchalantly through graceful fingers: long, ashy locks swept back into a bun and lavish robes crumpled slightly from his position.

"I came to ask about your dark mark," He continued, voice light and carefree, "Obviously, with the Dark Lord… well, indisposed... right now, I was a little confused at it burning so agonisingly. Would you just look who I found?"

Lucius Malfoy met his eye only at the final sentence, grinning like the Cheshire cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter was really fast this time, but from now on, it will only be once a week on Fridays. I know that this one may seem a bit confusing, but I kind of threw you in the deep end for the first chapter (the prologue I tried to make more straightforward). Almost all the loose ends will be filled in next chapter, but if you are confused, feel free to ask questions.


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